Huntsville gazette., 1887-12-24
himself so far ;

himself so far as TO emit small, Ia1nt
whistle
''Stop that noise over there" said a stern
voice, the owner of which looked out from
behind the folds of the evening paper with
frown. Joseph Rexford was homely
enough, taken at his best, but with an ugly
frown added, he was terrific, though prob
ably not aware of it, for people seldom get
before glass to make up ugly faces.
They were only talking little about
Christmas said Mrs. Rexford, tim
idly; the wives of such men are invariably
timid, or else, in very bravado of despair,
intolerable scolds, and Mrs. Rexford could
never be that.
She would have been the sunniest and
sweetest of little women, had she not been
clapped under bushel by Joseph Rexford
at very early stage in their married life,
and as might be supposed, she was pretty
nearly extinguished bv this time.
"Cbristmasp' he growled, contemptuous-
ly. "All nonsense and folly, they'd better be
tendin' to their rethmetic or shellin' them
seeds. had to work evenin's when l was
their age, an hadn't no time to be hatchln'
up foolery"
"All work and no play makes Jack dull
Doy," gently demonstrated the wife.
They're not too old to enjoy little recrea-
ton, Joseph, and 1 wish we could give them
little Christmas treat.n She wondered
afterward at her own boldness, for she did
not often venture within reach of the lions
claws, OF, in other words, her husbands dis
pleasure.
he looked at her in establishment; he sup
posed he had her subdued, and the idea that
she could propose any thing that he had just
put his foot on as ''foolery'' shocked him.
"Mrs. Rexford," and his voice was bit
OF condensed harshness, 'I thought you
knew my mind on sech triflin' years ago,
and want you to understand once and for
all, I mont haze it," and the big foot came
down on the uncarpeted floor with a snap.
And you young ones, stop your snivelin'
over there, or I'll give you something to
snivel about" and the mighty potentate
glared over in the corner, where little Nan
was struggling with a sob Of mingled terror
and disappointment, for at her mother 8
kind words it seemed so easy to have just a
| little bit of Christmas, at least.
Darn himn whispered Ted, clinching his
fists, and shaking them at the household
| monarch, who had again wrapped himself
| III his newspaper ''I'll run away, see if
DON'T an I'll have Christmas tree every
day when get big.n
His jacket would have needed no further
busting for months to come, if the parent
could have seen the beIigerent action, but,
| fortunately, the paper was not transparent
and Mr.. Rexford was deep in an article on
the Irish question.
He looked up presently; he had the com.
placent feeling of the bulldog, who comes
| up uppermost in the fight, and could looh
upon his vanquished subjects with amiable
| condescension. 'I guess those Britishers
| III find they can't always abuse them poor
Irishers," he said. They'll find out, sooner
| or later, that it don't pay to aller play the
| tyrant."
| Mrs. Rexford received the information
with proper degree of humility, and only
| a subdued, "hm-m-m,'' escaped her lips,
but she thought to herself that it would not
be necessary to cross the ocean to find a
tyrant, if one were urgently needed, and
wondered rebeliously if it was always
going to pay hana to assume the character
he so deprecated in his British neighbors.
Bedtime came, and Ted and Nan, with
little Jane, crept off toward their beds. No
cheerful, ''good-night, papa" with the kiss
which sweetens slumber, and ushers the
children into a happy dreamland; Mr..
Rexford's soul would have recoiled at such